


Fate

by fateofawakening



Series: Fate [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M, Manipulation, Regret, Secret Identity, yuri is a lil shit who loves his friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9120646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fateofawakening/pseuds/fateofawakening
Summary: “God, it’s not even ‘History Maker’ anymore,” Yuri grumbles, kicking at the ground with one shoe. He sings lifelessly, “We were born to gay history.”Victor blanches. “W-What?”“’Yuri on Ice’?” Yuri scoffs. “More like Yaoi on Fire.”*In which the most unassuming person ever has a secret power – one that he’s never told anybody.He has three opportunities in his life to turn back time in order to change something.And that person is none other than Yuri.Yuri Plisetsky.That’s not what you were expecting, was it?





	1. Take 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElleVarem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleVarem/gifts).



> so i thought this was an interesting idea. hope y'all enjoy :)  
> ** edit: I've been informed that there are more competitors at Worlds than there are at the Grand Prix Final. i'm definitely not an ice skater and i apologize for the mistake, but i'm just going to leave it as is :) forgive me!

**[ April 1, 2016 ]**

Cheers echo around the stadium as a very out-of-breath Victor Nikiforov strikes his final pose. He takes a moment to recover before smiling and waving and collecting as many items thrown at him as he can manage. He flashes everybody his signature Victor Nikiforov smile – the one that the media has always captured, the one that the fans have grown to love.

Yuri’s waiting impatiently for the scores to come out. Victor did well, of course. He deserves to win.

Not that Yuri would admit it.

“Yuri!” Victor spots him and waves him over, and he rolls his eyes but stomps over to him anyway. The cameras are clicking eagerly. Victor puts a lazy arm around the blonde and cheeses for the cameras. Yuri glares at him.

“Did you drag me over for any particular reason, or was it just to please your fans?”

“So mean!” Victor chuckles despite his sad tone. “I wanted to congratulate you on a magnificent free skate yesterday, Yuri! That quad flip at the end was – “

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuri interrupts him, pushing him over to the kiss and cry. “Just go over there and get your d – “ He pauses. No cussing in front of the reporters. Right. “ – Uh, your _darn_ scores.”

Victor smirks at him, knowing exactly what he was going to say, but allows Yuri to basically manhandle him all the way to the kiss and cry. The blonde shoves him down on the bench just as the announcer says in English, “We have the scores for Victor Nikiforov!”

There’s a moment of tense silence. Yuri huffs and crosses his arms, having been coerced onto the bench with Victor. Yakov sits beside them in eager anticipation, although he tries not to show it.

“His free skate score is 228.15, giving him a total of 334.17! He has taken first place from Christophe Giacometti by only 0.2 points!”

Yuri keeps his arms crossed and a scowl on his face as Victor smiles and poses for the cameras. He and Yakov sandwich Yuri between them like a small child – _he is not a child!_ But he stays there anyway – he doesn’t know why – and allows the cameras to take pictures of his scowl beside the brightest smile that ever existed on the Earth.

The official results flash on all the screens a moment later, and Yuri scans them quickly. Victor’s first, and Christophe’s second. JJ’s third. Michele’s fourth. Phichit’s fifth.

And there isn’t a sixth.

Yuri frowns and turns to Victor questioningly, but the older man seems to be contemplating the same question, his blue eyes narrowed as he looks the rankings up and down. As though on cue, Phichit walks by, head lowered, fists clenched, and Yuri can _see_ the tears he’s so desperately trying to hold back.

“Phichit, good run out there,” Victor calls to him encouragingly. Phichit glances at him and says,

“How are you all so composed right now?”

Both Russians blink at him in confusion. “What?”

“Y-You... Do you even _know_ what happened four nights ago?”

Yuri thinks back. Well, he went out to eat sushi with Victor and Yakov and Lilia. And he vaguely remembered scrolling down social media, but Yakov usually doesn’t like them playing with their electronics during such a high-risk competition. So he was a good boy – like _always_ , he insists to himself – and rarely touched his phone after that.

He exchanges looks with Victor before turning back to Phichit. “No.”

Phichit’s lips tremble, and suddenly Victor’s darting over to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, trying to give him the Victor Nikiforov hug that always makes everyone feel better – except Yuri, of course, Yuri thinks indignantly. It definitely does not work on him. Ever.

But Phichit pushes Victor away. “Does the name ‘Yuuri Katsuki’ sound familiar to you?”

Yuri thinks about it before nodding, despite Victor’s lost look. “He was fourth at last year’s Grand Prix. I told him we don’t need two Yuri’s in the same bracket. He was a – “

“He’s _dead_ ,” Phichit all but screams, and Yuri’s eyes widen. Dead? _Dead?_ “His car crashed on the way to the airport, all the way back in Hasetsu – he’d been working so hard for this competition, too – “

Yuri’s mind goes blank, and he doesn’t remember much else after that. He knows that Victor somehow took care of the situation and eventually guided him out of the building and into a waiting cab. He knows that Victor shepherds him into the hotel and up the elevator and into the right room. He knows that Victor tells him he’ll stay until Yuri’s safely in bed.

When Yuri finds himself staring at the ceiling in his hotel room, all alone, there’s an immense amount of guilt. He knows the crash has nothing to do with him, but he and Victor hadn’t even _noticed_ that Yuuri was supposed to be on the roster.

Or that he never showed up.

They were too focused on their own routines – on _winning_ – to think about the other competitors. And although he would never admit it to anybody, Yuri knew that the thing bothering him most was his lack of respect toward the Japanese Yuuri.

He thinks about last year’s Grand Prix Final. He vaguely remembers Japanese Yuuri – he was pretty good, and his step sequence was phenomenal. The _emotion_ he poured into his skating might’ve even surpassed Victor’s.

If only his jumps were a little cleaner.

“Not knowing my own competitors’ names,” Yuri whispers into his pillow, almost wanting to _die._ That guy had probably been a fan of Victor’s, but he’d been dismissed like any other fan. Yuri suddenly pictures the Japanese Yuuri in his head, although he doesn’t have a very clear image – a pair of big brown eyes hidden behind thick glasses, slicked back hair, skating a program that Victor had said “didn’t capitalize on his true abilities. He’s trapped in there.”

Yuri Plisetsky always tries to put up a tough front, but the immense guilt is eating away at him. He quietly slips out of his room and knocks on the door of the one beside his, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He doesn’t know why.

The door opens to reveal Victor, clad simply in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants. He doesn’t even look that surprised to see Yuri. “Come in,” he says, and Yuri does so, gladly. The door shuts behind him and Victor heads to the coffee machine, silently offering Yuri a cup. Yuri doesn’t usually drink coffee, but he accepts this time.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Yuri tries to decide if Victor’s having the same problem as he is. After all, Victor didn’t even recognize Yuuri’s name; as talented as the man is, he’s _thick_. And he’s arrogant. Yuri looks away, feeling that same clawing sensation in his gut. He lets out a noncommittal grunt.

Victor hands him a cup and he takes it, peering inside. Victor’s already added cream and sugar for him, it seems. “I can’t, either. I just checked the news.” He holds up his phone. “Since he made it to Worlds, his death was actually all over the news. We just didn’t...”

“We didn’t think to check the news on it, because _we’re_ in the bloody thing.” Yuri tries not to spill his coffee as he kicks at the ground angrily. “Because _we’re_ the damn champions, because _we’re_ the important ones – but at least I knew his _name_ , you know? I knew the name of the man who stood fourth at the Grand Prix, even though I wasn’t even in his _division_. What were _you_ doing? Dancing and laughing with all the other _important people?_ ”

Victor looks guilty. But Yuri’s fired up. And he’ll say anything to try to ease the guilt tearing him apart.

“You’re fucking _arrogant_ , you know that? You think you’re top of the world and that nobody else matters – _goddammit, they_ do _matter!_ And I – “ Yuri’s _not_ crying. The hotel maids really need to do a better job at dusting. “ – I want to fix what we did wrong. He probably – _probably_ – didn’t deserve to die.”

Victor’s silent, his blue eyes cast downward, and Yuri refuses to look at him but _knows_ they’re feeling the same inner turmoil. “... Me, too. I wish we could go back in time.”

Yuri can’t sleep that night, even after Victor finally falls asleep sprawled out on his bed. Instead, he grabs a pen and a piece of paper, trying to think. One thing’s for certain: _Yuuri Katsuki cannot make it to 2016 Worlds._

He goes backwards from there. If Yuuri never makes it to Worlds, then that means he messed up somewhere along the line. The Grand Prix, probably. Yuuri has to flub the Grand Prix, which might reduce the chances of him making Worlds. And then he needs to fail the Japan Nationals, too, because just as the European Nationals results have a say in who goes to Worlds, so do the Japan Nationals’. Yuri clicks his pen thoughtfully.

He grabs Victor’s laptop and inputs the password (“Makkachin”) before launching a browser. He spends the next hour looking up Yuuri Katsuki’s profile. If he’s going to do this, he needs _all_ the information.

There’s a lot of stuff about his death, as Victor said. Yuri clicks on them all with gritted teeth. 

* * *

 

**_March 31, 2016 –_ ** _Yuuri Katsuki, a prominent figure skater from Hasetsu, Japan, was the only casualty in a head-on-head drunk driving accident. He had been heading to the airport in a car driven by his ballet teacher, Minako Okukawa, when they were met with a drunk driver coming around a blind corner. Okukawa made it out safely._

_Katsuki, 23, had been heading to the figure skating World Championships when the accident occurred. Although failing to win gold at the 2015 Grand Prix, he came in respectably as fourth and went on to win gold in Japan Nationals. He would have been one of six skaters in the men’s singles division at Worlds._

_Katsuki leaves behind a grieving family of three, who run the hot spring and inn Yu-topia Katsuki in Hasetsu, Japan. At the very least, Okukawa says sadly, Katsuki will finally be reunited with his beloved poodle, Vicchan, who died days after last year’s Grand Prix._

* * *

 

He has a poodle named Vicchan and a family from Hasetsu who runs a hot spring and inn. He’s 23 years old – fairly old for a figure skater, but then again, Victor’s 27. Yuri takes his mind off the current issue for a moment just to mentally call Victor an old man.

Other articles address Yuuri’s anxiety and inconsistent performances. He tends to mess up when there’s something on his mind, or when he’s distracted. He gets nervous easily and trembles even when he’s on the ice. He’s in Detroit with Coach Celestino.

He’s made it to the Grand Prix Finals for the first time – and lands fourth! A magnificent outcome for Yuuri Katsuki! Hasetsu is overflowing with pride and joy. They hang up a sign above the ice rink he always skated at – Ice Castle – congratulating his achievement.

There are posters of him at the train station in Hasetsu, there are dishes named after him, there are little kids in Hasetsu who want to be _just like Yuuri Katsuki._

Yuuri Katsuki has idolized Victor since he was eleven. He has posters of him on his bedroom wall. His poodle is named after Victor. He copies Victor’s programs whenever he’s feeling down.

When Vicchan – his poodle – died, Katsuki was so out of it for a month or so that he _seriously_ flubbed _everything._ He barely made it through Nationals, but he did it.

Yuri can’t stand it anymore, flinging the pen across the room with so much force that the point actually punctures the thin wall and stays there for a moment before slowly falling to the floor. _He’s dead_ , his mind repeats over and over and _over_ , refusing to let him think of anything else, _he’s dead._

Is it worth it? Is it worth it to use one of his three chances?

Is it worth it for Yuuri Katsuki, who might never be anything but fourth place at the Grand Prix Final?

Yes, of course it’s fucking worth it. Yuri’s frustrated with himself for even hesitating. Of _course_ it’s worth it to correct this guilt brewing inside of him.

He glances at Victor once before looking back at his messily scribbled notes in almost undecipherable Russian.

And then he has a plan. The corners of his lips curl upward.


	2. Take 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri tries again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all your positive feedback! i really love writing this story and i'm glad y'all like the concept too! :)))

**[ December 6, 2015 ]**

Yuri doesn’t remember this day from the _last_ time he lived it, but he’s sitting on a bench by the rink as he watches Victor practice. He notices this time around that Victor looks a little _bored,_ as though his inspiration’s been snatched away from him.

Then again, he remembers, the world will never be surprised by Victor Nikiforov again – not as long as he continues as a professional figure skater.

That gives him an idea, but he locks it away for now.

“Yuri, why don’t you come practice your jumps?” Victor suggests, holding a hand out to him invitingly as he completes another loop around the rink. “You compete in a week, after all.”

“I leave in two days,” Yuri corrects him, sounding bored. He crosses his arms. “How am I supposed to practice _anything_ when you’re taking up the whole damn rink like that?”

“Oh, sorry,” Victor says, flashing him a cheeky smile and not sounding sorry at all. He comes to a stop beside the entrance to the rink. Yuri rolls his eyes before taking the covers off his skates and stepping onto the ice.

“Besides, shouldn’t you be more worried about your own competition, old man?” Yuri snaps, gliding over the ice for a moment before spinning around on one foot to glare pointedly at Victor. Victor merely shrugs.

“I’m not too worried.”

“Really?” Yuri hesitates for a moment. “There’s an up-and-coming new star, you know.”

Victor laughs. “Who, you? Come on, Yu – “

“Yuuri _Katsuki_ ,” interrupts Yuri, an eyebrow raised. Victor doesn’t recognize the name and only stares at him in confusion. Yuri sighs, trying to act a lot less nervous than he is. If he screws up this time around... “He’s a professional from Japan. This is his first year in the Final, but he’s pretty good, you know.”

“Oh, really?” Victor seems intrigued. “It’s strange for you to be taking an interest in someone else, Yuri.”

“Well – “ Yuri huffs and crosses his arms. “ – He has the same name as me, and we don’t need two Yuri’s in the senior division. So _there_!”

Victor laughs – actually _laughs_ – and Yuri wants nothing more than to push him over to knock the silly smile off his face. Instead, he grumbles to himself and does a few laps before launching into a quad Salchow. If there’s one quad he’s confident about, it’s that one.

He remembers that he’s not supposed to do quads yet, as per Yakov’s decision. He also remembers that Victor rebelled against that rule when he was younger, too, and he turned out alright, didn’t he? Well, save for his arrogant habit of forgetting his fellow competitors.

_Dammit, Yuuri Katsuki, what am I doing for you?_

Yuri’s dragged along, against his will, to dinner with Mila and Anya. There’s a little café on the corner, just a few minutes’ walk from the rink, and Yuri grumbles the entire way. Mila is mean. Anya is just as mean. He hates them both – the _hags_.

Victor smiles in amusement and ruffles his hair – much to Yuri’s disdain. “You’ll survive,” he says, not sympathetic at all about Yuri’s plight. The blonde fixes his hair angrily, pulls his hood over his head, and sulks the rest of the way.

The first thing Mila does, of course, is throw an arm over Yuri’s shoulders. When Yuri glares at her, she doesn’t make any attempt to move and instead just smiles innocently back at him. They order sandwiches and the adults – Victor and Anya – have a bit of wine just because the sun was going down. “What kind of lame-ass excuse is that?” Yuri spits, but they pay him no mind.

They part after dinner, and as soon as Yuri gets home, he jumps on the computer. He needs to book a flight _immediately_.

He winces at how much money the flight itself costs – especially _round-trip_ – but he inputs his credit card number anyway and waits for it to confirm.

And then he looks online for the nearest vet. His heart is pounding in his chest. This is completely, _absolutely_ immoral, but _he knows he has to do it._ It’s for Yuuri’s future.

* * *

 

**[ December 7, 2015 ]**

He leaves the next day, telling Yakov that he’s sick and that he’ll be back in two days, tops (it’s a tight schedule, since Yuri’s supposed to leave on a flight to the Grand Prix Final in two days). Yakov sounds hesitant when he insists that _no, he does not need Victor to come check on him_ , but lets it go. Yuri brings nothing but a small backpack and actually ditches his leopard-print jacket for a plain fleece one.

He needs to blend in.

He asks the shady vet for a syringe of pentobarbital, saying that he needs to put his dog to sleep and that he’d prefer for his father to do it. When the vet looks at him funny, Yuri whispers in his ear that _yes, he_ does _know about all the illegal trafficking_ , and then the vet hands it over without any further fuss.

Yuri puts the syringe in a large sunglasses case, wraps the case in many layers of clothing, and sets off for the airport. He checks in and holds his breath as his bag goes through security, but it’s cleared. He puts his sunglasses back on – even though they’re inside – and continues on to the right terminal.

“All by yourself, young man?” a balding man asks from beside him. Yuri spares him a glance and nods. “Ah, I remember the time I snuck out to go visit my girlfriend...”

Yuri isn’t sure what that has to do with being at the airport alone, but he politely half-listens to the man as he rambles on and on about his ex. By the time they call for boarding, Yuri can’t stand up fast enough and doesn’t even bother saying good-bye.

The plane ride is _long_ , and Yuri’s absolutely bored out of his mind. He tries to watch television, but it’s all in English and Japanese. His English is fine, but he decides very quickly that he prefers Russian.

He starts trying to play games on his phone, but that doesn’t last him very long either. Finally, he resigns himself to going over his plan over and over, to devising back-up strategies, and by the time the plane _finally_ lands, he’s got every single detail worked out in his head.

He asks the cabbie to take him to Yu-topia Katsuki, and thank _goodness_ the cabbie knows what he’s talking about. It’s a small town, after all, Yuri thinks. He gets out, shoves the appropriate amount of yen into the cabbie’s hands, and then stares up at the large building.

It’s traditional Japanese architecture, all right.

He tugs on his beanie, making sure it covers _all_ of his strikingly blond hair (after all, everyone here has black hair, and he can’t be remembered if he wants his plan to work). He heads in through the gate and is met near the front door by an older woman with a big smile on her face. She reminds him of Muffy from that one children’s series. “All by yourself, dear?” she asks, and Yuri just nods. “Do you need a room, or were you just going for the hot spring?”

“A room,” Yuri says, before remembering that these are elderly people whose dog he’s going to put to sleep a few days early, “ _please_.”

“Of course, dear!” She leads him inside and has him write his name down and sign something or other, before asking another woman with dyed hair and piercings to show him around. Her name’s Mari, apparently, and Yuri knows she’s Yuuri’s sister.

“ _Onsen_ , room, living room, bathroom,” she says, walking quickly. She seems a bit bored, Yuri thinks. “Any questions?”

“No,” says Yuri, before remembering, “thank you.”

She nods to him and disappears. Yuri sets his stuff down in his room before glancing at his watch and deciding he has a while to spend before he puts his plan into action. So he ventures through the hallways toward the hot spring and finds a bunch of old men bathing. He crinkles his nose. _Ew._

But then he discovers the outdoor hot spring and, after making sure nobody’s out here watching, strips and slips into the hot water. It’s nice, he thinks, wrapping a towel around his hair in case anybody comes out. He doesn’t know how Japanese people bathe publicly. That’s gross.

When dinnertime comes around, Yuri sleepily makes his way back inside, his hair once again covered with his beanie. The old woman from before smiles and asks what he wants to eat. He shrugs and asks for their specialty, although he has no clue what that is.

It arrives as a steaming bowl of fried rice with eggs and pork cutlet. And it’s really, really good. Yuri wonders if his grandpa will make some for him in Russia.

“What are you doing here all by yourself, kid?” asks a tall, slender woman, sitting down next to him. He instinctively edges away from her, shooting her a glare in hopes that she’ll leave him alone. She ignores it and says, “You’re a foreigner, aren’t you?”

He pretends that he doesn’t speak English and responds in Russian ( _“I hate poodles, what about you?” “I’m a time-traveler.” “Are you all stupid or something? I hope you don’t recognize me when I eventually probably come back.”_ ) Eventually she sighs and leaves him alone, but not before introducing herself as Minako Okukawa. His eyes flash in recognition of the name. She was the one driving the car – Yuuri’s ballet teacher or something.

There are two days until the senior division competes. Yuri holds out for another day and checks out of the inn, handing over the appropriate amount of money. He tells them he’ll stay the night, though (which he pays for, of course) and that he’s leaving first thing in the morning.

He lies awake in bed all night. When the inn has been silent for a while, he sneaks downstairs, finds the poodle named Vicchan, and hesitates for a moment before injecting the syringe. He hopes that he’s doing it right, especially since he’s done some extensive research – and when the syringe is empty, he flees, his footsteps light but ringing in his ears. He’s shaking as he hides the syringe away in its case and wraps it up. What... What did he just do?

Vicchan was dying anyway. Vicchan would’ve died – would’ve been put to sleep – a mere two days later. Yuri shakes and shakes, unable to stop trembling. He hates himself. He just put a dog to sleep without his owners’ permission. But he would’ve been put to sleep anyway – but it wasn’t Yuri’s place to do it –

He wails into his pillow, shaking and trembling and crying. And he reminds himself that this is all for Yuuri. Yuuri deserves to live. This has to happen.

Yuuri or Vicchan?

He knows that Victor would choose Yuuri, however difficult the choice is.

* * *

 

**[ December 9, 2015 ]**

He leaves before anybody wakes up the next morning, dark circles under his eyes. He tells Yakov that he’s flying straight to the Final and Yakov starts yelling at him because _what is he doing and why isn’t he answering his doorbell?_

But Yuri ignores all that. He still feels numb from his terrible crime, but he forces himself to keep going. He’s bitter, now. He’s bitter that he committed such an atrocious act for _Yuuri Katsuki._         

The flight to the Sochi is even longer, but he just goes over the next phase of his plan in his head. Yuuri’s going to fuck up. Victor’s going to win by a mile. And maybe at the banquet, Yuri’ll get Yuuri drunk or something. It wasn’t a necessary part of his plan, but it might be entertaining.

Oh, God, he put Yuuri’s dog to sleep.

He prays to a god he doesn’t even know if he believes in – prays _hard_ – asks for forgiveness. Asks for the strength to keep going. Because there’s something special about Yuuri Katsuki. Yuuri Katsuki has to survive.

He knows he’s right when he watches Yuuri in person. Although he’s clearly distraught and nervous (and Yuri alone knows it must be because of Vicchan’s death, and he can’t decide if he feels ridiculously guilty or if he’s proud that his plan worked) and although he flubs _all_ of his jumps and falls hard, Yuri can see the rhythm as he skates. He skates like his body’s making music.

Of all people, Yuri thinks, _Victor_ would appreciate that.

Victor’s getting ready, so he probably isn’t watching. That’s okay. Yuri has plans to introduce them eventually; it’s the least he can do, since he _just killed Vicchan._ Maybe Yuuri’ll feel better after he meets his childhood idol.

He goes over the next part of his plan. Yuuri needs to hit rock bottom. He _cannot go to Worlds._ He needs to mess up _everything._

Luckily for Yuri, he sees Yuuri go into the men’s room and follows him after a few moments. Inside, he can hear Yuuri’s sobs as he talks to someone on the phone in Japanese. A few moments later, he stops talking, but he continues crying.

Yuri takes a deep breath, puts on his best scowl, and kicks hard at the closed stall door. He hears Yuuri’s shriek of surprise on the other end before the door unlocks. “Ah, sorry...”

“Crying?” Yuri scoffs, staring him down. Yuuri shrinks away, brown eyes big and scared. “How pathetic. Hey, just retire already, old man.”

He walks away and exits the bathroom just in time to see Victor walk by, all smiles. The results were just announced, and Victor took gold yet again. Victor looks up and spots Yuri and smiles bigger. “Nice short program yesterday! Although your free leg – “

“Yeah, yeah, I got it already from Yakov,” Yuri grumbles, falling into step beside his sort-of-friend. His very annoying, older-by-a-decade friend. If Yuri were pressed for it, _maybe_ Victor’s a little tiny bit like an older brother. “I just have to do well in the free skate tomorrow.”

“Without quads?”

Yuri isn’t sure if Victor remembers his promise or if he’s just echoing Yakov’s strict orders, but he crosses his arms and sulks. “Without quads,” he mumbles.

Victor laughs. “Well, good luck. I’m sure you can do it.”

Yuri just nods absentmindedly. He’s too busy trying to figure out whether Yuuri would show up for the banquet or not. He’s not at all concerned about his free skate, since he technically has an extra few months of preparation under his belt now that he’s gone back in time. He’ll win, no problem.

He’s correct in thinking that Yuuri would be too depressed to show up for the banquet. He confirms this when he overhears Celestino Cialdini – Yuuri’s coach, he remembers from his night of extensive research – talking on the phone. “See if you can drag Yuuri out of his room,” Yuri overhears Celestino saying, complete with exaggerated hand gestures. “Going to the banquet might make him feel better, even. It’ll be good for him. He shouldn’t mope.”

Who _wouldn’t_ mope after his dog died and he flubbed the first Final he’s ever made it to?

Yuri snorts. Celestino’s a bit of an idiot, even if he means well.

He quickly formulates a plan and goes to find Victor, who’s lounging in his hotel room. Victor agrees to sign the Post-it note Yuri hands him, although not without a few questions.

“Look,” says Yuri impatiently, not wanting to give away the fact that, well, he’s a time-traveler from the future who’s trying to use Victor’s name to drag Yuuri out of his room, “just do it, alright? I’m not going to _sell_ it on Ebay or anything.”

“I wonder how much money you could get for that,” says Victor thoughtfully, but signs the Post-it with a flourish anyway. Yuri grumbles a tiny thank-you under his breath before retreating out of the room, returning to his own, and writing a note in the best English he can manage.

_Yuuri Katsuki, here is a new tie for the banquet tomorrow night. I hope you can attend. Attached is Victor Nikiforov’s signature, because I know you are a fan._

_\- Signed, a well-wisher._

Yuri grimaces at how cheesy it sounds (a “well-wisher”? After he killed Vicchan?), but grabs the light blue tie anyway and slips both items into a small plastic bag. The tie was given to him by Victor, but Yuri’s pretty sure he doesn’t remember doing that anyway. It’s a nice tie. It matches Victor’s eyes.

He watches carefully as Celestino goes to rap on Yuuri’s door just a few doors down, and watches as nothing happens and eventually Celestino walks away. Once Celestino is out of sight, Yuri darts out, tries to slide the bag under the door, and when it doesn’t quite fit, he knocks on the door and flees back to his own room.

He feels a sense of excitement about it all and he can’t help but grin when he hears a door open and close.

He doesn’t want Yuuri to make Worlds, but that doesn’t mean he wants Yuuri to _suffer._ He’s not _that_ mean.

He grimaces as he remembers Vicchan.

* * *

 

**[ December 12, 2015 ]**

Yuri wins gold, of course. He expected nothing less.

He sort of smiles for the cameras, holds up peace signs with Victor, mumbles some bullshit about loving his fans.

Well, it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate his fans; he’s flattered, but they can be a little over the top.

He escapes to his room about six hours before the start of the banquet and lays out his suit and tie before preparing to go to lunch with Victor and Yakov. As he exits his room, Yuuri walks past, head down, and Yuri suddenly wonders what to do.

They wait for the elevator together. Well, this is awkward.

“Hey,” Yuri says suddenly, and Yuuri jerks, turning to stare at him. Yuri scowls, because he doesn’t know what else to do. “You... You’re an old man and you suck, but your step sequences are really good. B-But don’t get me wrong – you suck! You should retire!”

Yuuri stares at him with a mixture of confusion and wonder, before murmuring, “Thanks.” They step into the elevator together, Yuri refusing to look at other Yuuri, his arms crossed and posture stiff. He’s glad when he spots Victor lounging on one of the sofas at the end of the lobby and can’t make his way over quickly enough.

“Ready to go?” asks Victor, and Yuri nods impassively. “Hey, Yakov, let’s go!”

Yakov joins them from where he was chatting with some other coach – Yuri didn’t recognize him – and they set off to find a small café or restaurant to eat lunch. Yuri orders a bowl of soup, a sandwich, and chocolate milk.

“How _old_ are you?” Victor asks, looking over Yuri’s tray with amusement. Yuri bristles.

“Shithead,” he spits out before finding a table that would seat four. He and Victor sit on the same side, facing Yakov. Yuri gulps everything down with barely any time to breathe, ignoring Victor’s concerned looks and Yakov’s sighs.

Halfway through, Yakov brings up Yuuri’s name and comments on how he flailed in competition. Yuri splutters and nearly chokes as he immediately glances at Victor. But Victor’s not paying attention, staring at his phone instead and typing some message to a friend. Probably Christophe.

So Yuri just says, “Maybe he had a bad day.”

“That’s a strange thing for you to say, Yuri,” says Yakov, and Yuri knows it’s true. It’s too empathetic of him. But he scowls at Yakov and just says,

“Maybe _I’m_ having a bad day, dammit.”

“You won gold,” Victor points out, suddenly jumping back into the conversation randomly. “How can it be a bad day?”

Yuri just shrugs. “It just is.” And then he stays stubbornly silent as Yakov and Victor talk about next season.

***

He _had_ planned to get Yuuri drunk just for fun, but it turns out that there’s no need for intervention. Yuuri did come to the banquet after all, but he’s just been standing in the corner like a piece of the wallpaper, downing flute after flute of champagne.

He looks kind of miserable.

Yuri keeps a wary eye on him, wondering if he’ll eventually have to step in to _stop_ him, but he’s distracted by Victor talking about how to successfully execute a quad flip. At that moment, Yuuri decides he’s drunk enough to come join the conversation.

“Hey, Yuri Plisetsky,” Yuri hears someone say, and turns to see Yuuri staring at him. He’s obviously drunk out of his mind. He’s wearing the tie. “You think you’re better than me, punk?”

“Yeah, I do, shithead,” Yuri spits right back. The normally shy Yuuri just crosses his arms and says,

“I challenge you to a dance-off!”

“I’m not interested – “

“I’ll bet you can’t even dance!”

If there’s one thing Yuri Plisetsky _hates_ , it’s walking away from a challenge. So he turns around, ignores Victor’s warning, and watches as Yuuri launches into some weird version of a breakdance. Now, he’s not an expert in breakdancing, but he knows enough from his past teenage years. Teenagers are exposed to weird things, after all.

And so he refuses to let Yuuri out-dance him. A crowd’s forming around the two of them, but he ignores them all and spins on one hand before extending a leg and nearly kicking Yuuri in the face. They go at it for a while, the room starting to become unbearably hot, and then Yuuri takes off his suit jacket and tugs on his tie. So Yuri does the same.

“Looks like fun!” shouts Christophe, producing a pole out of seemingly nowhere and somehow making sure it stays upright. “Yuuri, lookit what I can do!”

And then he starts spinning around the pole with remarkable athleticism, Yuri has to admit. He takes the chance to meld into the background and grabs a glass of water from a nearby waiter. When he looks back, Christophe’s all but stripped down to his underwear and swings around the pole like – well, like a pole dancer, Yuri thinks. He’s never actually _seen_ a pole dancer, but if this is what they look like, he can’t imagine he’ll be going to a show anytime soon.

Yuuri joins him on the pole.

Halfway through, _it happens._ Yuri watches in fascination as Yuuri marches up to Victor – his _idol_ – and grabs him by the tie. “Dance with me,” he demands, and Victor’s eyes go wide. “If I win, you come to Hasetsu and be my coach!”

The first time around, this banquet wasn’t nearly as interesting. Victor was ridiculously bored by the end of it, forced to exchange pleasantries with everyone as the gold medalist. Yuri followed him around, also bored, watching as Victor forced smiles and kept his tone light.

This time, Victor’s eyes are shining as he watches Yuuri pole dance _with_ Christophe _and_ a bottle of champagne. Yuri can tell that something’s changing; Victor _likes_ Yuuri Katsuki, for whatever reason.

Well, Yuri has to stubbornly admit, Yuuri _is_ rather good at dancing. His split jumps are beautiful.

But so are his! Nothing special!

So when Yuuri has the nerve to go up to Victor and challenge him to a dance-off, Yuri finds himself internally chanting, _Say yes, say yes, say yes!_

And _oh God, Victor says yes._

Their dance isn’t nearly a dance-off anymore by the end of it. They twirl and they touch, they drop into identical splits, they ballroom dance and then they breakdance. Victor’s smiling like a madman. Yuri shivers. _Gross._

But he can’t help the feeling of happiness bubbling up inside of him. He knows what he has to do.

This should be fun.

He takes a lot of pictures and saves them to a private album.

* * *

 

**[ December 12, 2015 to December 28, 2015 ]**

During the night, he manages to get Yuuri’s number and saves his own number in Yuuri’s phone as “Girl I Met at Banquet.” He feels slightly insulted that he’s calling himself a girl, but it’s for the greater good. It might come in handy.

Yuri doesn’t realize _how_ handy it comes in until he and Victor have returned to Russia. Victor’s jabbering his ear off about Yuuri again, and how _amazing_ he was at dancing, and how he wished Yuuri hadn’t flubbed his Final skate. Yuri tells Victor to shut up, shut up, and shut up some more. Victor doesn’t.

They watch the Japan Nationals on television. Yuuri messes up. Victor sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair. “I wonder how he’s doing.”

Yuri snorts. “He just screwed up Nationals and you’re wondering if he’s _happy_ about that?”

“That’s not what I meant!” says Victor defensively, putting up his hands. He places them back in his lap and looks away. “I thought... I thought he’d try to get in touch or something. I know he can skate better than this. I wonder what’s going on.”

Oh, God, _gross._ Yuri screws up his nose. “You _like_ that excuse of a figure skater?”

Victor’s eyes are bright. “He’s interesting!”

“He was drunk!”

“All the more interesting!”

“ _Gross.”_

“Yuri, you saw him yourself! How could you say that?”

“Exactly! I saw him myself and I think he’s gross!”

Once he was safely home in his own flat, he pulled out his phone and texted Yuuri for the first time. He hesitated for a moment before deciding that _this was part of his plan and nothing could be worse than killing the damn poodle, now could it?_

****

**[ 18:05 ] Yuri Plisetsky: Hey, we haven’t talked for a while. What’s up?**

 

He grimaces at the wording of the text. It’s so unlike him, who usually ignores people or, when he does reply, spits cuss words at them and pretends to hate them until they either give up or drag him out of his flat.

He gets a reply rather quickly.

 

**[ 18:09 ] Drunk Idiot: Um, nothing, I guess. Sorry, who is this?**

**[ 18:09 ] Yuri Plisetsky: I’m Mila. I met you at the banquet last year, remember?**

**[ 18:10 ] Drunk Idiot: Um... To be honest, all I remember is going there and getting drunk. Nothing else.**

 

Yuri Plisetsky has solved the mystery! Yuuri hasn’t tried to get in touch because he _doesn’t remember a thing._

Yuri wonders whether or not to tell Victor.

* * *

 

**[ December 28, 2015 to March 31, 2016 ]**

He texts Yuuri from time to time, always pretending to be Mila, always asking if he’s okay and telling him that he should do whatever he wants to do. He always grimaces as he types these sickeningly-sweet messages, but decides that for now, this phone is like an extension of Victor. He would think about it from Victor’s point of view and gently encourage – _him, Yuri Plisetsky, encouraging someone!_ – Yuuri along.

He holds his breath as Worlds approach. He goes along with Victor although he isn’t competing, and feels as though he’s about to die when it gets to March 30th. He spends an entire evening refreshing and refreshing the internet, looking for any articles on Yuuri’s death. He texts Yuuri, asking if he’s watching Worlds, and gets no reply.

But there isn’t anything about his death, and even Victor notices how much happier Yuri seems the next day. “What are you so happy about?” he asks, raising a silver eyebrow. Yuri splutters on his milk.

“Nothing! What are you jabbering on about?”

Victor just shrugs. “Never mind.”

He gets a reply from Yuuri saying that yes, he _had_ watched Victor on television and that yes, he had been amazing. He sounds a bit depressed, though. Yuri frowns. What’s he supposed to do with depressed people?

               

**[ 9:06 ] Yuri Plisetsky: Will I see you at the coming year’s Grand Prix?**

**[ 9:10 ] Idiot Drunk: Probably not. I think I’m retiring.**

 

Yuri slams the table so hard that Victor nearly jumps out of his seat. “Yuri!” he scolds him, but the blonde pays him no mind. He’s too busy seething at Yuuri’s softness. He’s done so much for Yuuri – he’s used up one of his three chances and he’s only _fifteen_ , he _killed_ Yuuri’s fucking poodle, he’s put up with texting Yuuri _fucking_ Katsuki even though he’s a fat pig who cries in the bathroom stall – for what? _For what?_

_For Victor._

Well, most of it, anyway.

Yuri’s bitter again, because he’s done all this and now Yuuri’s _quitting._ As Victor repeatedly asks Yuri what’s wrong, the blonde only types away furiously.

 

**[ 9:11 ] Yuri Plisetsky: This is going to sound stupid but you NEED to continue you shithead**

**[ 9:11 ] Yuri Plisetsky: I KNOW what you’re capable of, you could’ve made it to Worlds this year**

**[ 9:12 ] Yuri Plisetsky: If not for the death of your dog you would’ve done it okay so stop being a fucking idiot!**

               

He realizes his mistake too late. Shit, he thinks, _shit, shit, shit._

**[ 9:13 ] Drunk Idiot: How do you know about my dog?**

**[ 9:13 ] Yuri Plisetsky: I read about him in an article last year. I’m sorry.**

**[ 9:13 ] Yuri Plisetsky: Even Victor thinks you have incredible potential, are you just gonna throw that away?**

**[ 9:14 ] Drunk Idiot: Victor Nikiforov? No way. Sorry, but I’ve pretty much made my decision... I don’t think I can do this anymore**

**[ 9:15 ] Yuri Plisetsky: Goddammit, you’re right you can’t do this anymore because you’re a FUCKIN PIG! GROW UP, SHITHEAD!**

 

Okay, so maybe that last part isn’t helping. Yuri slams his forehead onto the table and Victor asks him again if anything’s wrong. He can’t tell Victor about his plot. “No,” he mumbles, sighing and rolling his eyes at the same time.

               

**[ 14:19 ] Yuri Plisetsky: At least do something before you retire for good. Copy another one of Victor’s performances or something**

**[ 14:28 ] Drunk Idiot: You know about those? I’m heading back to Hasetsu tomorrow, so maybe I will**

**[ 14:29 ] Yuri Plisetsky: Again, there are ARTICLES everywhere. Yeah. Do that.**

 

Because if there’s one person who can command Victor’s attention, it’s Yuri Plisetsky. But, Yuri thinks, perhaps Yuuri can do it, too.

Hell, anyone who Yuri pays attention to is probably worthy of Victor’s time.

* * *

 

**[ April 1, 2016 ]**

“ _Yuri? Where are you?”_

“I’m out for the day,” says Yuri vaguely. He’s actually in his bedroom, but he needs to concentrate on his task. Victor can’t come in.

_“Eh? Well, okay. I was going to ask you to come work on quads with me or something. Your senior debut is this year, isn’t it?”_

“Yeah, yeah,” says Yuri, typing away furiously. “Next time, old man.”

_“Well, okay.”_

There’s a brief silence. Yuri narrows his eyes at his laptop screen. There’s one ice rink in Hasetsu called Ice Castle, and it’s apparently run by the Nishigori family. There’s a number on the site, and Yuri grabs his phone – only to realize that Victor’s still on the line. “Hey, Victor, I’ll call you back later,” says Yuri, distracted.

 _“What? You will? Yura, do you feel alright today? You_ never _call me.”_

Yuri realizes his mistake too late. “Well, maybe I’m running a fever or something – I didn’t mean that! I didn’t mean it! Bye!”

He hangs up quickly and inputs the number on the website before hitting “Call.” The phone rings for a few seconds, and he realizes that he forgot to check the time difference. Well, it’s only noon in Moscow, so it’d be...

He thinks about it for a moment, trying to remember.

Only six in the evening in Kyushu. Is that too late?

To his great relief, someone picks up. “ _Hello_?” It’s a girl.

“Hello,” says Yuri in his best English, remembering to be polite. “By any chance, do you know Yuuri Katsuki?”

 _“Oh, Yuuri? Of course! We were childhood friends.”_ Yuri feels like he can _see_ the woman smiling on the other end. _“Um, what’s your name? Was there something you wanted me to tell him?”_

“No,” he says, “but if he comes in to skate, _please_ video his performance and send it to me. It’s... I can’t tell you why, but it’s really, _really_ important.”

“ _Ah...”_ There’s a hesitant silence on the other end. _“I’m not sure if I can just do that for you, especially since I don’t know who you are.”_

Yuri grits his teeth. “If I tell you, you can’t tell him.”

“ _I won’t_ ,” promises the woman, before adding, “ _unless it’s dangerous to him_.”

“It’s not,” Yuri promises. “My name’s Yuri Plisetsky, and I’m – “

“ _Gold medalist in the Junior Grand Prix?!_ ” the woman shrieks, and Yuri blinks in surprise.

“Well, yeah.”

There’s some more screaming. Yuri waits impatiently for it to die down before saying,

“Will you _please_ do this for me? Hell, upload it for the whole world to see if you want – I just need to be able to send it to someone really, _really_ important. Really important for Yuuri. It’ll... It’ll help him get back on track, I swear.”

“ _Alright, fine_ ,” says the woman. “ _I’m Yuuko, by the way. Nice to meet you, Yuri.”_

“Nice to meet you too?” Yuri’s unsure of how to put it. The woman just laughs and tells him to have a nice day and then hangs up.

* * *

 

**[ April 4, 2016 ]**

“Watch your free leg – your free leg! It’s getting sloppy – and come out of that more gracefully, could you? More _gracefully_ , I said – not like a cockroach on hot coals!”

“Hi, Yakov!” comes a more cheerful voice. Yuri slows to a stop as his routine ends and grabs his water bottle just as Victor comes into view, bearing three coffee cups. “I brought you guys coffee!”

“Way to state the obvious,” Yuri drawls, skating over to them. Victor hands him a cup. Yuri sniffs it before deciding that it’s hot chocolate – and, therefore, safe to drink. He takes a big gulp and gags as the hot liquid burns his throat.

“Careful there,” says Victor brightly, and Yuri wants to smack him into the nearest wall. “Wouldn’t want you dying on us.”

Yuri’s pretty sure he hears Yakov mumble, “I don’t know about that,” but before he can address the matter, he hears his phone ringing. Since it’s his break anyway, he steps off the ice, puts on his skate guards quickly, and hops over to check his phone. The timing is about right...

It’s from an unknown number, but he recognizes the Japanese area code. He picks up. “Hello?”

 _“Hi, Yuri! It’s me, Yuuko. I wanted to let you know that you were right about Yuuri coming here to skate the routine – and that I’ve got it on film. My triplets are really adamant on uploading it to YouTube, so they might end up doing that even_ without _my permission...”_ Yuuko sighs. Yuri’s somehow impressed that he’s talking to a married woman, for whatever reason. It makes him feel old, because Yuuko doesn’t _sound_ that much older than him. _“Anyway, look out for it. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”_

“Yeah, thanks,” says Yuri, hyperaware of the two older men glancing over at him from time to time. He’ll have to hang up soon, or they’ll get suspicious.

_“No problem! Have a nice day! I hope... I hope you really can help Yuuri.”_

“Uh-huh,” says Yuri, who’s not about to say something like _“I do too,”_ even though he _kind of_ – kind of! – does.

_“Anyway... thank you, and good-bye!”_

She hangs up and Yuri does the same, setting his phone down and returning to stand by Yakov’s side. It’s nearly three in the afternoon, meaning...

He does the math. It’s about nine where Yuuri and Yuuko are.

“Your girlfriend?” Victor teases, and Yuri flies into an instant rage.

“ _No_ , of course not! You shithead! I’ll pound you to dust at this year’s Grand Prix, you hear me?”

“What does that have to do with – “

“You are _dead_ , Victor Nikiforov! Your reign is over! I’m going to win gold at my senior debut!” Yuri’s arms are crossed defiantly, and Yakov just sighs as he watches the two of them banter.

“Yuri, get back on the ice. You have work to do.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Yuri bites back, but gets on the ice anyway. He runs a small section of his routine again with both Yakov and Victor watching this time. When they both try to provide their “constructive criticism,” Yuri merely throws their words back in their faces and invites _them_ to do it if they’re so great.

Victor takes on the challenge and executes a flawless quad flip into a beautiful spread eagle.

Yuri silently does whatever Yakov says for the rest of the training session.

By the end, he’s bruised and sore – as he usually is after his private training sessions – but he notices that he has a text from a Japanese number. He opens it and realizes that it’s _the video of Yuuri._

He taps it to open and sees that it was just published a minute ago. Well, if he shows Victor _now,_ everyone will be suspicious. So he waits, grumbling about food, and only sends the link to Victor once they’ve parted ways.

The very next day, Yakov’s pulling his hair out because Victor’s spontaneously gone to Japan.

Yuri hides his smile and curses aloud for show (but also not really for show, because he remembers that stupid conversation a few days back), “That Japanese Yuuri is a total _idiot_!”

* * *

 

**[ April 6, 2016 ]**

Yuri’s on the plane _again._

It’s a really, _really_ long flight, and Yuri remembers the _last_ time he decided to take this horrendous route. If Yuuri ever finds out what Yuri’s done for him, the blonde thinks, _he better be fucking thankful._

When the plane finally lands, he finds his way to Yu-topia Katsuki again via taxi and strolls in the front door. He says a polite hello to Yuuri’s mother (who says, confused, “Have I seen you somewhere before?” to which Yuri shakes his head quickly) and dumps his stuff in the only remaining empty room before strolling down the street toward Ice Castle.

The eager crowd in front of the entrance _proves_ that Victor’s inside.

He pushes past them all. A set of triplets, who are intent on keeping everyone else out, clearly recognize him and let him in. Just as he gets there, someone crashes into the glass doors, breathing heavily and smiling. It’s Yuuri Katsuki.

“Ah, I finally made it,” he says, panting. “And I’m finally back to my weight before the Final – isn’t that amazing?”

Yuri sees the three triplets trying to warn Katsuki, who doesn’t notice. Irritated, Yuri lands a swift kick to Katsuki’s back, sending him flying through the doors and right into the counter.

A horrified woman stares down at his limp body as Yuri approaches with no mercy. He just suffered through a twenty hour flight (okay, not quite twenty, but _still_ ) for this pig, and he turned back time for this pig, and he _fucking killed a dog so that this pig wouldn’t die in a fucking car crash_ and the pig repays him by taking Victor away?

There’s a flash of recognition in Katsuki’s eyes as he stares up at Yuri. “Take me to Victor,” Yuri demands, and Katsuki just kind of holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright.”

The woman’s looking at Yuri with a puzzled expression on her face, so Yuri figures she must be Yuuko. He nods to her once before following Katsuki down the hallway and into a locker room, where Katsuki sits down and switches his sneakers for skates.

Yuri waits impatiently, tapping his foot against the ground, snapping at Katsuki whenever he even makes a sound. He feels a little tiny bit guilty for it afterward, but decides that Katsuki _owes_ him. Owes him a lot.

They venture out into the actual rink, and Yuri spots Victor skating loops around the rink, but then he realizes they’re not just loops. Victor’s skating his own choreography.

“I recognize that,” Yuri says quietly, and Katsuki glances over, surprised. “Those moves – they’re from the short program Victor was preparing. For this year.”

Katsuki looks surprised. Yuri snorts. Did the idiot think that Victor decided not to compete before he even saw Katsuki’s video?

“Hey, Victor!” Yuri yells rather than addressing Katsuki’s idiocy. Victor stops mid-glide and looks over before beaming and waving.

“Yuri! I’m surprised Yakov let you come!”

“He didn’t,” said Yuri as Victor approached them until they were only separated by the barrier. “Not that it mattered. What are you doing here? Let’s go back to Russia – my _senior debut_ is this year!”

“Yeah, so?”

Yuri gives him the best, most deathly glare he can muster. Victor almost withers, but smiles foolishly at the last second.

“Judging from that look, I forgot some promise I made, didn’t I?”

* * *

 

**[ April 7, 2016 – April 20, 2016 ]**

“I’m going to beat you, _katsudon_ ,” Yuri repeats over and over throughout the next few days. Katsuki doesn’t seem to care. “Just you wait – I’ll crush you!”

He works on finding his _agape_ , trying to refine his movements, but he’s _angry._ He feels like he’s constantly full of anger – _not that he has anger problems, because he doesn’t_ – and he wonders how he’s supposed to quell those.

Two nights before the Hot Springs on Ice event, after having sent him to temples and waterfalls and everything – and Yuri having grumbled through it all – he kind of gives up. It’s not like Katsuki’s made any progress, either. And if it comes down to technicals, Yuri’s got it in the bag.

He’s not wrong.

 The day comes, and he skates well. He lands all his jumps, he glides, he soars, the crowd cheers. Katsuki’s not _bad_ either, but Yuri wonders if he understands what _eros_ means at all. Because it sure seems like he doesn’t.

He smiles triumphantly to himself. He’s won.

“And the judges have counted the scores! The winner is...”

The entire room holds its breath.

“Yuri Plisetsky!”

“ _Yes!”_ shouts Yuri, throwing his arms into the air. He’s happy for once. He gets his gold medal and stands on the podium a step above Katsuki, and he watches with glee as Victor starts discussing travel plans.

“I’m going to sleep,” says Katsuki all of a sudden, and he gets up and walks away. Victor goes silent, watching Katsuki’s back with a strange expression on his face.

Yuri looks away.

He lies in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling.

He does _not_ feel guilty – that’s not what it is! That’s definitely not what it is. No – Yuri simply feels as though it hadn’t even been a competition. What fun was that? It was no fun.

He _could_ just tell Victor to stay in Japan, but that would ruin his image. Ruin his pride. They would always tease him about it, forever and ever.

And, he thinks, Katsuki would never forgive him for _giving in out of pity._

He sits up and stares at his palms. This is a stupid idea, he thinks, over and over. Stupid. Stupid.

He only has two more. He’s still only fifteen.

Stupid.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and then he’s in the backseat of a cab.


	3. Take 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri finally enjoys Hasetsu... and finds trouble at the Grand Prix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh i don't actually know Yuri's living arrangements so i decided that his grandpa lives somewhere else in Russia (where Yuri used to live) but that Yuri moved closer to Moscow to train with Yakov. so he and his grandpa head to Yuri's flat in Moscow during the Rostelecom cup. someone please correct me if you know the answer! but it doesn't really affect the story lol

**[ April 6, 2016 – April 20, 2016 ]**

“Can you just take me to Hasetsu?”

The cabbie agrees and drops Yuri off in front of what looks like a market alley. He pays the cabbie and strolls through the market. He knows where Victor is, but he still keeps a wary eye out, just in case – and then he spots a _beautiful_ shirt.

“Now _that’s_ fashion,” he breathes, grinning. It’s probably overpriced, but he buys it anyway. Souvenirs, right?

Then he sets off for Ice Castle, where he finds the same crowd from before, and the same triplets manning the crowd. He pushes right past them, dragging his suitcase behind him. The triplets recognize him and let him in. Katsuki crashes into the glass door and mumbles something about his weight. He kicks Katsuki through the door and into the counter. Yuuko stares at them in horror. He grinds his heel into Katsuki’s forehead and demands that he be taken to Victor.

In the locker room, he remembers Katsuki’s dejected face after Hot Springs on Ice and decides that he _won’t_ throw in the teasing about his weight this time. He’s such a nice person.

Katsuki leads him to the ice rink. Victor’s practicing his routine. He explains to Katsuki that Victor had been preparing a short program for this season. He still wonders if Katsuki _actually_ thought Victor hadn’t had plans, but drops it in order to yell at Victor.

Because that’s always more fun.

Victor sees them and comes over. Yuri demands that he come back to Russia. He proposes that they have a face-off, to which the triplets are absolutely _ecstatic._

He greets Hiroko at the door and asks for a room. He bathes in the hot spring with minimal complaint this time before gobbling down a huge bowl of _katsudon._ He goes on walks in the morning, along the beach, enjoying the weather and the serenity. He likes Japan a lot more this time, because he’s taken the time to enjoy it.

Victor assigns them their programs. Yuri still hopes that maybe this time around, Victor will give him “Eros,” but no such luck. He gets assigned to “Agape” again and is determined to _actually skate it,_ rather than just beating Katsuki in technicals.

He gets sent to the temple.

He gets sent to the waterfall, and Katsuki’s forced to come along. They stand there for half an hour. “Isn’t there anyone you love unconditionally?” Katsuki asks, _sort of_ helpfully. Not really. Definitely not at all. “Or anyone who loves _you_ unconditionally?”

 _Grandpa,_ Yuri thinks, his eyes widening. Yes, of course. Grandpa.

He has a bit of a cold when they finally step away from the waterfall (well, Katsuki pulls him out because he notices his dazed look), but it’s nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix. He eats _katsudon_ as Katsuki decides that he’ll be skating for _katsudon_ itself. Well, Yuri thinks, _that_ hasn’t changed. And it’s still hilarious as hell.

The next day, when Katsuki asks him to help with his quad Salchow, Yuri remembers the waterfall and agrees to show him a couple of times. Victor walks in. They play it cool and separate immediately, heading for opposite sides of the rink.

“Remember,” Yuri says to Katsuki that evening, “if you don’t find your _eros_ before this weekend, Victor’s coming back with me to Russia.”

He hopes that’ll spur something, and it _does_. Because Katsuki works harder than ever, and if you _really ask him for it,_ then _maybe_ Yuri _might_ admit that yes, he did admire Katsuki’s hard work. Katsuki’s no genius. He just works hard.

Katsuki lands the quad Salchow in practice, but it’s inconsistent. Yuri focuses on imagining his grandpa when he skates to “Agape,” and is immediately praised by Victor. He shoots a look at Katsuki, hoping it’ll motivate him to _do something_ before it’s too late again.

He vows to himself that night that if Katsuki loses _again_ , despite his best efforts, then it’s just meant to be that way.

He eats more _katsudon._ He trains. He jumps. He runs. He thinks of his grandpa and of his childhood.

He changes Katsuki’s name in his contacts from “Drunk Idiot” to “Katsudon.”

He thinks of Katsuki’s dejected look.

“You’re obviously not the playboy,” he says to Katsuki the next day, rolling his eyes and trying to sound disinterested. Katsuki looks away. “Why don’t you stop _trying_ to be the playboy? Who said you had to be?”

Katsuki doesn’t seem to really _get_ it until they pick out their uniforms later that afternoon. Katsuki holds up a black one and a pink one and he’s about to pick the pink one – like last time – when Yuri snarls, “Hey, don’t pick anything flashier than me!”

The black one’s a lot more flashy – and a lot more symbolic, if you think about Victor’s skating history – and so Katsuki smiles innocently as he goes for the black one. Yuri rolls his eyes but silently congratulates himself for his triumph. He picks the white one.

“Oh, that one,” he hears Victor say, glancing at the black outfit Katsuki’s picked out (with the help of Yuri, of course, because _last time_ Katsuki picked the _fucking pink one and he didn’t get this talk_ ). “Yeah, back then, I had really long hair, so I decided to go for an outfit that suggested both male and female genders.”

The lightbulb goes off. Katsuki disappears that night to somewhere. Yuri’s about ninety-nine percent sure it’s Minako Okukawa’s place, where he’ll probably be dancing well into the night.

The day of the competition arrives, and Yuri _insists_ that Katsuki go first. So he does. He skates well, flubbing only one jump, and Yuri is taken aback by the pure _eros_ in his presentation. He’s not the playboy – no, he’s the seductress who catches the playboy’s attention.

Yuri’s kind of proud of his accomplishments.

It’s his turn, and he skates flawlessly and beautifully, adding up the points in his head. Technically, his program is just a few points more difficult than Katsuki’s. He’s sure that their presentation scores won’t be all that off, judging from what happened last time. They’ve both improved. But Katsuki flubbed a jump...             

Yuri grits his teeth as the quad Salchow comes up. He doesn’t have to do this. He doesn’t. He really doesn’t.

He purposefully under-rotates, and it becomes a triple. There. He tastes blood. If Katsuki doesn’t win _now,_ then he’ll be _really_ lost for words and he’ll tell Victor what a waste of time it is to coach that pig.

Victor’s giving him a strange look that he ignores. The whole stadium is murmuring. Yuri leaves and grabs the suitcase he packed earlier that morning and tucked away in the locker room. As he exits Ice Castle, Yuuko comes running after him.

“You’re leaving before the results come out?”

“I don’t need the results to come out,” says Yuri purposefully, before scowling. “But tell them that I’ll _squash_ that pig with my senior debut! You got that?”

“I got it,” says Yuuko, smiling a little, and Yuri gives her a nod before continuing on his way. “But, Yuri – what was with the video?”

He ignores her. It’s time to head home to Russia. He bought the plane ticket last night.

* * *

**[ November 20, 2016 – November 25, 2016 ]**

He loses to JJ of all people in Skate Canada.

He’d like to say that he’s disappointed or even frustrated, but it’s more than that.

He’s ready to spit fire.

And to make things worse, _JJ is an absolute asshole._

But it’s all more or less fine – Yuri vows to beat the hell out of him in Moscow – and they board the plane for the long, _long_ journey back home. Yuri’s used to these flights by now. After all, he flew to Hasetsu and back _twice_ this year. It was _terrible._

Yakov orders him to rest up before the Rostelecom Cup, and they part ways at the airport. To his utter glee, his grandpa is waiting for him outside the terminal and, unable to control himself for once, Yuri launches himself at the old man for a hug.

He forgot about his bad back.

His grandpa tosses him a bag of _pirozhki_ that Yuri eagerly opens. He munches on one before suddenly thinking about the fact that he’ll face Katsuki in two days. “Hey, Grandpa,” he says, “have you ever had _katsudon_?”

“Huh? I had them back in Japan.” There’s a pause. “Is the _pirozhki_ not good?”

Yuri blanches. “N-No! That’s not what I meant!”

His grandpa just smiles at him. “You seem like you’ve been busy, Yuratchka.”

He murmurs in vague agreement, munching on the savory _pirozhki._ All he can think about is that he has to make his grandpa proud. With Victor gone, he has to represent Russia. He’s the _Ice Tiger of Russia,_ for Heaven’s sake! He has thousands of fans! Everyone’s watching his senior debut!

They retire to Yuri’s flat in Moscow, where Yuri respectfully offers his grandpa his own bed and opts to crash on the couch. After all, sleeping on the couch couldn’t be good for a bad back.  

He has two days before the Cup, so he spends the first one furiously training and the second one on toned-down training. After all, if he’s too worn out, he can’t perform well, can he?

Lilia criticizes his free leg and his posture one too many times. He tries not to snap at her. He checks Instagram that night to find that Victor and Katsuki arrived in Moscow a few hours ago. Victor even sent him a text saying that he’d love to meet up for dinner. Yuri glances at the clock. It’s too late now. He sends back a half-apology.

He goes to sleep with thoughts of winning gold and _beating JJ Leroy’s arrogant ass into the ground._

He wakes up the next day in a nervous sort of fervor and goes about his usual routine, sneaking out of the flat as to not wake up his grandpa. He heads for the stadium via taxi and is almost finished with his warm-ups when Yakov gestures to him.

“Your grandpa’s waiting outside,” he says, and Yuri just about sprints in the direction Yakov points. He finds his grandpa waiting in his old little car and opens the door eagerly.

He’s holding another brown bag, which he holds out to Yuri. Yuri opens the bag wordlessly, peeks inside, and pulls out a _pirozhki._ When he bites into it, though, his eyes widen. This is no normal pirozhki. It’s...

“A _katsudon_ pirozhki,” says his grandpa, smiling at him. “Eat them and do well, Yuratchka.”

Yuri’s all smiles, for once. _God,_ everyone would go _crazy_ over this if they saw him now, bright eyes and wide smile, but he puts it out of his mind and thanks his grandpa. He returns to the rink with the brown bag, stuffs it into his locker, and starts stretching as the Cup begins.

He’s on fourth, having lost to that _damn_ JJ in Skate Canada. He stretches and stretches, and then he thinks over his routine. He’s determined not to lose this time. He’s really determined not to lose.

He finally sees Katsuki as he exits the locker room. Victor’s by his side, as always. Yuri puts on a scowl as he approaches them. “I’m going to beat your ass into dust,” he promises, and Katsuki just gazes at him warily. “Just you watch!”

“I’m looking forward to it, Yurio,” says Katsuki, and Yuri bristles.

“ _Don’t_ call me that!”

The competition starts, and Yuri waits with bated breath as his competitors go on, one after another. He’s _not_ trembling. He’s not scared. He’s just anxious with anticipation.

Katsuki delivers a good performance. It’s not perfect, but it’s good, Yuri has to admit. So he claps along with everyone else, albeit a little bit hesitantly.

When it’s finally his turn, Yakov and Lilia both give him reassuring nods, and he glides onto the ice smoothly. He sees red. Truthfully, all he can see is JJ’s smirk in his mind, arrogant and _fucking irritating_ , and he’s not sure if he’s screwing up _agape_ or if it’s enhancing his performance.

In any case, he finishes just behind Katsuki ( _damn_ that pig!), who finishes behind JJ. He’s really angry now. JJ is an _asshole._ At the very least, he thinks, Katsuki’s not like _him._

The free skate is a weird thing, because Victor has to leave the day before to go check on Makkachin, who may or may not be dying. Yuri feels a strange sense of guilt in his gut, again, as he remembers Vicchan.

 _Well, it’s all for the better,_ he reassures himself. Katsuki’s here and _vibrating_ with joy, isn’t he? And Victor’s become slightly less of an asshole, hasn’t he?

Yakov agrees to be Katsuki’s temporary coach. The day comes. Yuri skates well, putting everything he can into the performance even though it takes a serious toll on his body. He’s kind of envious of Katsuki’s stamina – not that he would _ever_ admit that to _anybody_.

Katsuki, on the other hand, doesn’t quite deliver. He doesn’t do _badly_ , but it’s obvious that Victor’s absence is bothering him. Yuri watches in a bit of an anxious silence before wondering _why._ Wouldn’t it be better if Katsuki crashed and burned? The pig doesn’t deserve it –

Oh, who was he kidding?

“Come _on,_ you idiot!” he screams, his hands cupped around his mouth. He has no idea if Katsuki hears him or not, but JJ certainly does. The asshole has the audacity to smirk at Yuri.

“All supportive now that you’ve clinched your spot in the Final, huh?”

Yuri forgot about that.

“I hope you’ll cheer for me, too.”

“Like _hell_ I will, asshole!” Yuri spits, letting him know _exactly_ what he thinks of him. He’s on edge throughout Katsuki’s performance, because even though he can _see – feel – hear_ the love, those missed technical points are still going to cost him.

It comes to an end. Yuri’s just relieved that Katsuki didn’t actually make any huge mistakes. And he’ll get a good score in presentation.

               

**[ 16:08 ] Fucking Victor: How’d Yuuri do?**

**[ 16:10 ] Yuri Plisetsky: Fine. Fourth place, so he goes to the Final**

**[ 16:10 ] Yuri Plisetsky: Just hurry back, he’s fucking terrible without you and I can’t watch this crap**

**[ 16:11 ] Fucking Victor: Good to know :)**

After the awards ceremony, Yuri finds Katsuki outside in the snow, wrapped up in a huge coat that looks hideous on him. He doesn’t hesitate to deliver another swift kick, and Katsuki lands on the ground, eyes wide.

It reminds him of the first time they’d really met, so many months ago, at Ice Castle.

It was hard to forget when Yuri lived that moment _twice._

“You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself,” he begins, and Katsuki looks confused. “I poured blood and sweat and tears into that, only to lose to JJ _again!_ So you don’t get to feel more sorry about yourself than I do!”

Katsuki blinks. “Right.”

Yuri tosses the brown paper bag at Katsuki carelessly, looking away. “Eat. It’s almost your birthday, right?”

“Huh? How’d you know that?” There’s the sound of rustling paper. “Eh? _Pirozhki?”_

Truthfully, Yuri’s just surprised he even knows what they _are._ “Just _eat!”_

“Okay, okay!” He bites into it before chewing thoughtfully. “There’s rice in this, and eggs, and pork cutlet – it’s _katsudon!”_

Yuri can’t help the proud grin that spreads across his face whenever he talks about his grandpa. “Isn’t it good? My grandpa made them himself!”

“They’re _vkusno_ ,” Katsuki declares, and for a moment, Yuri considers telling him that his accent is hilarious. But then he remembers that he can’t speak a word of Japanese, so maybe that’s not the smartest idea.

But for a moment there, Yuri doesn’t have any regrets about wasting _two_ of his precious chances. Even if, in the future, he _needs_ one of those chances, he has a feeling that he won’t regret using them so early on.

* * *

**[ November 29, 2016 ]**

It’s Katsuki’s birthday.

Yuri, who’s miles and miles away in Moscow with Yakov and Lilia, considers shooting Katsuki a text as “Mila.”

He doesn’t, because Lilia yells at him to hurry up.

He spends most of the day in her ballet studio, refining his technique, feeling the familiar burn of his muscles. He’s spent by four in the afternoon, so Lilia and Yakov let him go home to his flat. After having trained with Lilia for a month, he was no longer required to stay at her house. He was glad, because his flat allowed him _privacy._

To his surprise (and perhaps annoyance), he gets a FaceTime request from Victor just a few minutes after reaching his flat. He lets it ring for a moment before growling and picking up.

Victor’s face comes into focus. He’s smiling as he says, “Yurio! How are you?”

“Don’t call me that,” Yuri drawls, having pretty much given up by now. He peers at the screen curiously. In the background, he faintly recognizes the living room of Yu-topia Katsuki, and then he sees a bottle in Victor’s hand. “Are you drinking?”

“Yep!” Victor says cheerfully, proceeding to take a big gulp for the camera. Yuri rolls his eyes. He’s not old enough to drink yet, but when he is, he’s not going to be like _that._ “Hey, Yuuri! Say hi!”

The camera turns and Katsuki’s face comes into view. He’s not drinking, thankfully. Yuri wants to shudder when he recalls last year’s... _episode._ “Hello, Yurio!” Kastuki greets him, smiling and giving a little wave. Yuri just grunts in acknowledgement. “What time is it for you over there?”

Yuri glances at his watch. “Five.”

“Oh, okay,” says Katsuki, still smiling. “I hope we didn’t interrupt you or anything.”

 _We?_ Yuri grimaces. “Well, my beauty rest, but at least you didn’t call while I was at Lilia’s.”

Katsuki laughs. “Sorry.”

“Sorry!” echoes Victor in agreement, sounding anything _but_ sorry. Yuri rolls his eyes again. “If you keep rolling your eyes, they’ll get stuck like that.”

“If you keep giving me shit, I’m hanging up.”

There’s a wide-eyed pause. “I’m sorry, Yurio! Don’t hang up!”

Yuri sighs, having had no real intention to hang up just yet.

“But aren’t you going to wish Yuuri a happy birthday?”

Yuri glares at Victor. After _everything_ he’s done, and they want him to say _happy birthday?_ But he remembers Vicchan and mumbles, “Happy birthday, you old man.”

Katsuki laughs, unaffected by the insult. “Thanks, Yurio.”

The phone gets passed around to a few other people. Yuri says hello to Mari, Minako, and Katsuki’s parents before exchanging an actually _pleasant_ hello with Yuuko and tentatively waving to her triplets and husband.

He’s lying on his couch lazily when Katsuki decides that it’s time for Victor to go to bed. Yuri silently agrees, because Victor’s practically drunk and he’s already taken off his shirt and he’s starting to hang all over Katsuki. Yuri does _not_ want to see that. _Gross._

But for some reason, maybe Barcelona will be fun with these idiots.

* * *

  **[ December 6, 2016 ]**

He arrives in Barcelona with Yakov and Lilia and proceeds to check in at the hotel. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots JJ, and he immediately scowls.

“At least check in, Yuri,” says Yakov patronizingly.

“I’m tired!” Yuri snaps. “Do it for me.”   

He blames JJ for his foul mood. JJ is an _asshole_ , he thinks, stabbing at the ground with his foot. And there’s JJ and his _fiancé_ , and he’s pretty sure they’ve spotted him already. He’s about to ask them what they’re looking at when –  

“Yuri Plisetsky!” He hears his name _everywhere._

“Sign this, please!”

“Can I have your autograph?”

“Where did you get this jacket?”

“You’re so beautiful!”

“Yuri’s Angels are famous,” says JJ, smirking, and Yuri wants nothing more than to _kick his ugly ass._

His fiancé, whoever the hell _she_ is, smirks and clings to JJ like some damn parasite. Yuri feels his eyebrow twitching. “But JJ’s Girls are better about following the rules, and we’re cuter.”

Yuri bristles. “Don’t talk about my fans like that, you bitch!”

“Oh, scary. Help, JJ!”

Disgusting. God, he can’t _stand_ it. He’s about to march up to them, raging and spitting, when JJ’s attention is diverted by someone else. It’s Otabek Altin, from Kazakhstan, about to leave the hotel. Yuri silently thanks the divine powers for intervening before he could actually kill JJ.

“Otabek! Want to grab dinner with us?”

Yuri is pleased when Otabek pulls down his sunglasses, look sat JJ, and then says, “No, thank you.”

“Always a little cold, huh?” JJ laughs and turns back to his fiancé. “Shall we go?”

Yakov comes up behind Yuri just as JJ and his damn fiancé turn to leave. He shoves a room key into Yuri’s hands and beckons him to come along. They get on the elevator and fall into a more-or-less comfortable silence.

Yuri goes to his room to put his luggage away and sits on the bed for a while, deep in thought. He’s jerked out of his reverie when his phone buzzes.

 

**[ 17:42 ] Fucking Victor: Yurio! We’re going to have dinner together, wanna join us?**

**[ 17:43 ] Yuri Plisetsky: Not particularly**

**[ 17:43 ] Yuri Plisetsky: Where?**

**[ 17:44 ] Fucking Victor: Yay! We’re just grabbing dinner on the bottom floor of the hotel**

Yuri pockets his phone and heads downstairs. He spots Victor’s silver hair immediately. Beside him is Katsuki, and Yuri wants to gag at the looks they’re giving each other.

Katsuki spots him first. “Hi, Yurio!”

Victor turns to see him, and his turquoise eyes light up. “Yurio!”

“I told you not to call me that!” Yuri snaps, pulling out the chair beside Victor and plopping into it. He sees the two exchange small smiles and rolls his eyes. Why is he here, anyway, if they’re just going to flirt the whole time?

They look over the menu and order Americanized Spanish food. There are omelets and soups and a variety of meat dishes. Yuri orders a Spanish omelet out of curiosity (and because it looks safe) and snaps at Victor when the older man points out that it’s kind of like a sandwich for the little boy!

To make things worse, the two men won’t stop _touching_ each other. Yuri asks blatantly if they’re dating, to which Katsuki splutters and turns red and Victor just sort of smiles. _Gross._

Katsuki excuses himself to go to the restroom. Yuri takes out his phone and scrolls down Instagram disinterestedly. Without looking at Victor, he says, “Just propose to the damn boy already.”

“W-What?” Victor seems taken aback. As if Yuri was _that_ dense. He rolls his eyes.           

“God, it’s not even ‘ _History Maker’_ anymore,” Yuri grumbles, kicking at the ground with one shoe. He sings lifelessly, “ _We were born to gay history.”_

Victor blanches. “W-What?”

“’ _Yuri on Ice’_?” Yuri scoffs. “More like _Yaoi on Fire_.”

Yuri returns, smiling, but he frowns when he sees the shocked look on Victor’s face. Yuri acts innocent, double-tapping a few of Phichit’s pictures and really appreciating the fact that Phichit hasn’t come up to them sobbing about Katsuki’s death this year.

“Is something wrong?” asks Katsuki. Yuri ignores him, as usual. Victor kind of jerks back into reality.

“What? No, no, nothing’s wrong!”

“Um... that’s good?”

Yuri stands up and announces, “I’m going to _puke_ if I stay here any longer,” and then sort of waves good-bye and heads back to his room.

He’s secretly glad, because Victor’s happy and because Katsuki isn’t a pile of shit.

And also because he’s not _dead._ That’s really fucking important.

* * *

**[ December 7, 2016 ]**

Yuri spends the day practicing on the rink with Yakov and Lilia. By the end of it, he knows two things: He has a love-hate relationship with Lilia Baranovskaya, and his free leg is really fucking sloppy.

“Strength is nothing without beauty!” Lilia repeats over and over like a mantra.

 _I really fucking hate you sometimes!_ Yuri repeats over and over in his head.

Victor looks delighted when Yuri skates over to him and Katsuki and says, “I hope you’re ready to lose in two days.”

Katsuki looks a little uncertain. Victor just says, big smile and all, “I’m looking forward to your performance, little Yurio!”

God, that man knows _exactly_ how to rile him up. Yuri spends the next hour cursing Victor Nikiforov’s existence under his breath, temporarily putting aside his resentment toward Lilia.

He soon finds himself cursing another group of people, though, as he furiously runs away from them: his fan club. They’re probably nice people, he supposes as he sprints like a madman down the street and ducks into an alleyway, but they are _much_ too obsessive. And a little bit frightening.

“I can smell him! He’s close!”

“This is his hair!”

Yuri winces. _That’s_ creepy.

And they’re coming for him.

Out of nowhere, a motorcycle pulls up to him and stops right next to him, motor purring dangerously. The rider pulls off his glasses and tosses him a helmet, and Yuri gapes – it’s Otabek Altin, who said _no_ to JJ.

He’ll trust anyone who says _no_ to JJ.

“Are you coming or not?” says Otabek, and Yuri glances once to his left, where his fan club is, before making his decision. He hops onto the back of the bike. The bike shoots forward, flying past the fan club, and he knows they’re taking pictures but he could _not_ care less.

They don’t talk until they reach the edge of a hill. Otabek parks the bike by the curb and they climb off of it and go up a set of stairs to reach a landing. They kind of just stare out at the horizon. Yuri wonders if this is what Victor and Katsuki do, and then realizes that he’s not supposed to compare himself and Otabek to a practically _married couple._

“Why did you rescue me?” Yuri decides to ask, getting straight to the point. Otabek’s expression is thoughtful.

“I always thought we were alike,” he says in response. Yuri frowns. “You probably don’t remember me, but about five years ago, I was once in a training camp with Yakov.”

“Huh?” Yuri blinks in surprise and tries to remember. Nope. Nada.

Otabek kind of smiles. “I was desperate.”

“Desperately _bad_?”

Otabek stares at him for a moment, and Yuri wonders – like he often does – if he should’ve _not_ said that. But then the older man just smiles and shrugs. “Yeah, basically. I couldn’t keep up with the other Russian skaters, so they moved me down a level – where you were. I thought you were amazing – you always seemed to have a mind of your own.”

“Despite the what, five year difference?” Yuri drawls rudely. But Otabek doesn’t seem to mind.

“Only three, I think,” he says, maybe a little bit ruefully. “I’m not _that_ old.”

So he was eighteen. He looked older. Yuri wasn’t sure what to say, because he probably should not be rude to the man who rescued him. But Yuri’s conversations _thrived_ – or perhaps, _never thrived_ , and that was how he kept them – off his rude and snarky comments.

“Anyway,” says Otabek, interrupting Yuri’s thoughts, “I later decided that there’s no ‘right’ way to skate. I quit ballet. I was never any good at it, anyway.”

“Good for you,” says Yuri, remembering the hundreds of hours he’s poured into ballet with Lilia. It’s like a never-ending nightmare. “Yakov, the old geezer, invited _Lilia Baranovskaya_ to teach me this year. Do you know how _fucking terrible_ that is? She’s the former prima ballerina of the fucking _Bolshoi Ballet_ and she works me to the ground like I’m a fucking _dog.”_

For a moment, Yuri wonders how Otabek will react to his rant. But the older man just smiles and holds out a hand. “Will you be friends with me?”

Yuri’s shocked. _Actually_ shocked. He’s never, _ever_ been asked to be friends with anyone before – but he figures that maybe Otabek’s an okay place to start. He takes it. They shake on it.

***

He’s been dragged to dinner again.

He’s sulking at the table as Victor and Phichit and Chris chatter on and on and _on._ Minako Okukawa and Katsuki’s sister Mari look _delighted_ to be here, and Yuri supposes that, well, these _are_ famous skaters that they’ve probably only ever seen on television.

“Yurio, you should really try some of this,” says Minako, pushing a plate of nachos toward him. They look like expensive nachos – garnished with everything possible – not like the shitty store-bought ones that you eat as a last resort. Or when you really feel like torturing yourself.

Yuri wordlessly takes a chip and pops it in his mouth. It’s actually surprisingly good.

He looks up, and Victor and Katsuki are mid-sidelong glance. They’re smiling. Yuri scowls and drawls, “There are children present, you know.”

“That’s alright,” Mila coos, brushing Yuri’s hair. He jerks away from her and glares. “It’s all part of the process of growing up and learning, little Yuri!”

“Shut up, you hag!”

He huffs and crosses his arms. Phichit’s attention is quickly dragged away by something else – “What? Congratulations on your marriage, you two!”

Yuri has just taken a sip of water and promptly spits it everywhere. “ _W-What?”_

To his horror, Victor and Katsuki are _wearing matching golden rings._ He wrinkles his nose. _Gross._ There’s a certain amount of disgust he feels, but there’s something more than that, too. Because he knows that if Victor stays as Katsuki’s coach, he’ll never return to competitive skating.

Never.

He blinks, coming out of his reverie. Katsuki’s trying to furiously deny it, but Yuri just rolls his eyes at him. Idiot.

“We’ll get married once Yuuri wins the gold,” Victor announces, and Yuri grabs the nearest fork and is about to launch it at Victor’s head when he’s forced back into his seat by Mila. He struggles, but to no avail; Mila is a head taller than him and a lot heavier, too.

“You’re going _down_ tomorrow!” Yuri shrieks, flailing in Mila’s grasp. Victor beams at him.

“Is that so? I look forward to it!”

Yuri grumbles under his breath and finally manages to escape Mila – what does she have, tentacles?

“I hope this year’s banquet will be as entertaining as last year’s,” Christophe announces happily, and Yuri nearly chokes on water _again._ All around the table, grins are starting to appear on people’s faces – except for a very, _very_ oblivious Yuuri Katsuki.

“I have pictures from last year!” announces Victor happily. Katsuki looks at him curiously. Yuri remembers their conversation from last year. Katsuki doesn’t remember.

“So do I!” says Chris, eagerly opening up his phone and showing the screen to Phichit, whose eyes go wide.

“I heard about this, but – wow, amazing! Yurio, I didn’t know you could dance like that!”

Yuri scowls. “I didn’t have a fucking _choice_ , did I?”

“What’s going on?” he hears Katsuki mumble, and he rolls his eyes.

“You got drunk on champagne last year and started dancing everywhere,” he says, taking a _safe_ sip of water this time. He relishes in Katsuki’s horrified look.

“You challenged Yurio to a dance-off,” Christophe adds, and Katsuki’s eyes grow even wider.

“What? I did? _Yurio_?”

“I won, for the record!” shouts Yuri. Mila laughs from beside him, and Yuri wants to strangle her.

“Sure you did, little Yuri.”

“I _did,_ you old hag!”

“You danced with Chris for a long time, too,” Mila adds, amused. Katsuki’s starting to turn red as the photos are passed around, and even Minako and Mari are smirking now as the flip through the shots.

Yuri glances at Victor as the others go on and on about Katsuki’s post-Final “performance.” The silver-haired man is watching the whole thing with amusement, his blue eyes twinkling, and although Yuri feels a serious need to _puke_ , he does remember the same look in Victor’s eyes last year, at the banquet, as he watched Katsuki dance with a bottle of champagne.

Why did he use two of his three precious time-turning chances on _those two?_ He convinced himself that it was for his own pride and honor, and for Victor, who – despite all his annoying quirks and arrogant flaws – is a little bit like an older brother.

Yuri acts tough and spits out curse words. He gets angry easily. He’s competitive. He’s always ready to beat someone up.

But he’s really, _really_ soft-hearted sometimes.

He groans into his pillow, sighing. He’s an idiot.

* * *

 

 

**[ December 8, 2016 ]**

It’s the morning of the short program.

Yuri wakes up early – _way_ too early – and ventures out of the hotel. He’s instantly drawn to the sight of the blue, sparkling ocean – and there’s Victor, with his back turned to him, staring out across the water. He crosses the street.

He’s been thinking since last night that he needs to know Victor’s plans for the future, because Victor’s _wasting_ his life away right now. And _maybe_ that damn Katsuki has changed him for the better – he’s less arrogant now, at least – and made him happier, but what about Victor Nikiforov, five-time world champion?

“What are you doing?” Yuri demands, coming up to him. Victor turns around, surprised to see him.

“What do you mean?”

“That ring you got from the pig is _trash_ ,” Yuri snarls, and he sees a dangerous glint appear in Victor’s eyes, even though the smile doesn’t disappear. “If you keep coaching him, _you can’t come back_.”

Before he can react, Victor’s hand is on his chin, and then he’s squeezing Yuri’s cheeks. Yuri just stares up at him defiantly. “We’ll see,” he says, and his smile is definitely not friendly. Yuri fights to keep his composure.

Okay, so maybe he went a little far, insulting the rings. He doesn’t dare admit his mistake to himself until he’s safely back in the hotel, grabbing his things and heading for the stadium. He’s determined. It’s time to do this.

He warms up on the ice with everyone else, purposely ignoring Victor’s gaze and focusing on his damn free leg. He goes back to the locker room and does stretches while he waits for his turn. His heart’s pounding.

He ignores Katsuki and he _definitely_ ignores JJ. He’s going on second-to-last because of his scores in both Skate Canada and the Rostelecom Cup. At the very least, he thinks, he’s not going to let JJ beat him _again –_ the damn arrogant asshole.

The minutes count down, and then the seconds, and Yuri peeks his head out to watch Katsuki’s performance. It’s actually quite good, he thinks, before catching himself. _No._ It sucks. He sucks.

He definitely sucks.

When it’s finally his turn, Yakov and Lilia smile at him. That’s weird, he thinks, and his hands are shaking a little bit. It’s his senior debut, after all. It has to be perfect. _Perfect._

He positions himself in the middle of the ice. The music starts.

He tries to envision his grandpa in his mind’s eye, remembering how he always took care of him and always forgave him, despite the unruly little kid he was – despite the unruly teenager he is now. He remembers standing under the waterfall with Katsuki – _“Isn’t there anyone you love unconditionally? Or anybody who loves you unconditionally?”_

Maybe the pig wasn’t a total idiot.

He lands all his jumps flawlessly, and it’s just his presentation score at stake now. He won’t let Katsuki beat him in _presentation._

He’s out of breath when he finishes, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. He skated like he always does at practice. The audience is cheering, and Yakov and Lilia look proud. He allows himself a small smile as they head to the kiss and cry.

He receives a higher score than anybody so far, breaking the world record – breaking _Victor’s_ record.

Victor sweeps by him without looking at him once. Katsuki tries to smile at Yuri, but is tugged away by the silver-haired man.

Yuri thinks about all the things he’s done for them, and he’s bitter.

* * *

 

**[ December 10, 2016 ]**

The day of the free skate, Yuri’s hyped up. He and Yakov are walking through the stadium building when Victor, out of breath, runs up to them. “Yakov, I need to talk to you,” he says, and Yuri’s senses are immediately on full alert.

“Talk to me later. It’s almost Yuri’s turn.”

“It’s important,” says Victor with increasing urgency. Yuri remembers how Victor ignored him and walks on. Yakov pauses for a moment, before telling Victor that they’ll talk later. They continue on to the locker room.

Yuri laces up his skates, does his stretches, and awaits his turn. He’s on second to last again. He’s secretly _very_ glad that JJ flubbed up, putting him in last place. It’s actually not really a secret.

He cheers for Otabek, his new friend.

And his jaw drops when he watches Katsuki skate, because Katsuki pours more _emotion_ into the skate than Yuri ever did. His technicals are beautiful. He lands a quad flip perfectly.

Suddenly, Yuri feels a strange feeling in his gut. Because if Katsuki wins here...

The damn _pig_! And fucking _Victor_!

He hears Otabek cheering for him as he goes on the ice. Yuri smiles. He can do this.

The music starts. He sets off, reminding himself to skate like he does in practice, and it’ll all be okay. He swears he can hear Lilia’s insistent voice in his head, nagging him to watch his _damn free leg_ or warning him about going into the jump too roughly.

He lands all his jumps.

He skates well.

The scores come out. Yuri feels like he’s in a daze when he ascends the podium, only to stop on the second level. Yuuri Katsuki, who fell to last in last year’s Grand Prix Final (although, admittedly, that had been Yuri’s fault), had won gold.

Yuri watches as Katsuki and Victor embrace, and then he walks by them with his head down when he hears that one phrase: _“I’m retiring.”_

Victor doesn’t look surprised, but he looks sad. He murmurs something Yuri can’t quite make out.

Katsuki smiles gently. “This is as far as I’ll go, you know. And you need to get back on the ice. We talked about this last night. Thank you for everything, Victor.”

So _that_ must’ve been what Victor had wanted to tell Yakov. Yuri grits his teeth and his hands form fists. He marches up to them. “You’re _retiring_?”

Katsuki looks up at him and smiles sheepishly. “Yeah. I won gold, right? That’s enough – “

Yuri’s actually _furious._ “You’re _retiring_?” he asks again, trying to formulate his thoughts and emotions into actual words. Katsuki frowns this time.

“Yes. That’s my decision.”

“You dragged Victor all the way to Hasetsu to be your coach, and now you’re casting him aside?” Yuri’s seeing red. “You can’t just _do_ that!”

“Keeping him here as my coach means slowly killing him as a competitive skater,” he hears Katsuki say calmly, if not a little sadly. All Yuri can see is red – and Victor’s sad expression. “I told myself that if I won gold today, I’d retire for good. And I’m not changing that.”

“You’re so damn _stubborn_ ,” Yuri hisses, grabbing Katsuki by the collar. “You can’t _retire_ before I beat you!”

“Yurio – “

“And _don’t_ call me that – not in that patronizing tone of yours! You’re not retiring – I won’t fucking let you!”

He lets go of Katsuki abruptly and pushes up the sleeve of his tracksuit jacket. There, on the inside of his elbow, is a tiny black hourglass. There used to be three, side by side, but there’s only one left. Yuri doesn’t hesitate this time. He’s just too mad – and too stubborn.

He puts his right thumb onto the hourglass and says to Victor and Katsuki, “I’ve done too much for you for you to quit _now_.”

All he sees is their confused looks as the world bends and twists and disappears around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! I might be a bit late for some of you haha but I live on the west coast (of the united states) so our time zone is behind.  
> anyway, about Yuri's decision(s): he does these time-turning things because he regrets something. this will be addressed in the next chapter, but please don't think that he's doing them just because he feels like helping out a random guy who died. it's always because of his own regret/pride/image... and what'll happen when he can't do that anymore?


	4. Take 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuri has left the job of fate behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all your support! we've made it to the end! hope you enjoy :))

**[ December 10, 2016 ]**

It’s the day of the free skate. Yuri gets up in the morning, grabs breakfast downstairs, hurries Yakov along. They get to the stadium. They warm up a little. They exit the ice as the competition prepares to start.

They’re walking through the stadium, and Victor comes running up to them. “It’s important,” he insists, and Yuri pointedly puts his foot down and turns around. Yakov pauses and then does the same. “Yakov, if it’s alright with you, will you be my coach again?”

Yuri _knew_ this was going to happen, but it doesn’t stop him from flying into a rage. He darts forward into Victor’s face. “Does that mean that pig is retiring?”

He remembers their little spat from a few days ago, and how Victor ignored him after that. And rightfully so, Yuri thinks. But Victor only gazes at him wordlessly, his blue eyes dull and meaningful, and then catches Yuri in a hug.

Yuri doesn’t resist.

They continue on to the locker room. Yuri does his stretches. He doesn’t fucking care about beating JJ or anybody else. He cheers for Otabek. He watches Yuuri Katsuki dance on the ice, beautiful and flawless. He’s changed so much since Hot Springs on Ice.

Yuri removes his skate guards in preparation to glide onto the ice.

Yakov and Lilia smile at him. He steps onto the ice. He’s trembling again, but not out of nervousness – no, out of _anger._

The music starts, and he launches into his routine with full force. He’s not going to let that pig just _quit_ – how could he just _quit_ after winning gold? How could he throw Victor aside after winning gold?

How could he throw away _everything Yuri’s done for him?_

The _shithead!_

He flies into a perfect quad Salchow. He doesn’t hear the cheers.

He’s going to beat Yuuri Katsuki. He’s going to pound him into the _ground._ He’s going to give this performance everything he’s got – he’s going to surpass his limits, because _there are no gold medals for pigs to feed on!_

He’s ready to scream as the music takes him to new heights. He’s showing the world his exasperation, his anger, his frustration. He remembers his free leg. He lands all his jumps flawlessly. He thinks about how proud his grandpa must be, up in the stands.

He thinks about Victor’s hug.

He thinks about Vicchan, about his multiple sixteen hour flights to Hasetsu and back, about Hot Springs on Ice and all the _katsudon_ , about texting Katsuki as “Mila” for his own purposes, about asking Yuuko to film Katsuki’s performance and then sending the link to Victor.

It’s come too far to end here.

His last jump is perfect. His flying sit spin is pristine.

He’s ridiculously out of breath by the end and keels over on the ice, trying to catch his breath. The crowd is cheering. He doesn’t care. He skates over to Yakov and Lilia, who look ridiculously proud. He nods to them, but he can’t smile this time.

He can’t smile until his scores are announced.

His score breaks the world record again. He allows himself a small smile as the cameras flash and microphones are shoved in his face. He mumbles something about being proud of his accomplishments, but the truth is that he doesn’t care.

He’s beaten Yuuri Katsuki to win gold in his senior debut. _That’s_ what he cares about.

They ascend the podium again in a flurry of excitement and disappointment and every emotion in between. Yuri’s on the top level this time, holding up the gold medal.

Katsuki doesn’t really look disappointed. “Well, it’s not gold, but...”

“I won’t kiss anything but gold,” Victor declares.

Yuri tries to keep his presence hidden, pretending he’s rearranging his bag as he stays in earshot.

“I... Victor...”

Here it comes.

“Please be my coach until I win gold! I promise I’ll make it up to you with a gold medal next time!”

Yuri smiles to himself. Victor seems taken aback, and then he says, “Okay. But you have to keep on going after that – keep winning gold, keep skating... You’ve got to be a five-time world champion, at least.”

Yuri escapes before they start hugging.

He doesn’t need those stupid time-turning things anymore.

This was the last time he’ll have regrets – the last time he’ll have to go back in time to fix something because he can’t give up his pride. This was the last time he’ll _allow_ himself to let things go, only to regret afterward.

That’s the end.

Yuri feels like a huge load has been lifted from his shoulders. As he exits the stadium, he beams for the cameras.

* * *

 

**[ December 25, 2018 ]**

“As if you two could’ve done all of this without me.”

Yuri realizes his mistake as soon as the words come out of his mouth. _Now_ he wishes he had another one of those chances, because he really should not have said that.

Everyone’s staring at him. Victor finally asks, “What do you mean? Of course you’re important, Yurio – “

“I don’t mean that,” says Yuri, wondering if he should just tell them. He kind of wants to. They probably won’t believe him, anyway, and they’ll just chalk it up to the glass of champagne he tried earlier. “I’m talking about Katsuki’s death before 2016 Worlds, his loss at Hot Springs on Ice, and his gold at the 2016 Grand Prix.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence. Katsuki laughs a little uncomfortably, but he’s had a bit of champagne himself and he’s clearly a little tipsy. “What are you talking about, Yurio? _You_ won the 2016 Grand Prix – “

“Only because the first time around, you decided to fucking _retire_ after winning gold!” Yuri snaps, digging himself into a deeper hole. Shit. Everyone’s staring at him now with open mouths and big eyes. “Close your mouths, y’all look like fish.”

“Yurio,” says Victor, slowly, “why don’t you tell us all about this?”

Yuri’s not sure if that’s a good idea, but he figures that he owes Katsuki one piece of truth, at least: “It all started when I killed Vicchan.”

The uproar’s amazing, but Katsuki quickly quiets them all and gestures for him to continue.

“Well, it was April, and I went with Victor to the 2016 World Championship...”

Because all of these things that Yuuri and Victor chalked up to fate – well, fate was none other than Yuri Plisetsky himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to note here that how Yuri obtained his powers is currently up to debate or your interpretation. I DO have my own idea in mind (it's a bit complicated), and i'm contemplating writing a prequel to explain it. but in any case, he got them as a child and was told to use them meaningfully :)  
> thanks for sticking with me to the end! it was a long journey!  
> EDIT: PREQUEL HAS BEEN UPLOADED! check the series button :)


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